


Reclaiming Our Sundays

by LilyRosePotter



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Mild D/s, Multi, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sunburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 15:23:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15415908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosePotter/pseuds/LilyRosePotter
Summary: Jon watches the way Lovett’s thumbs dig into Tommy’s neck and shoulders. They leave a slight trail of white prints behind that flush almost immediately back to crimson.





	Reclaiming Our Sundays

**Author's Note:**

> kink meme fill for [this prompt](https://podsavethekink.dreamwidth.org/659.html?thread=173203#cmt173203): Tommy/Any, sunburn painplay

Jon loves Sundays.

They’ve spent basically the whole day lying by the pool, taking breaks from doing nothing to jump into the cool water, splashing each other like teenagers. Tommy finished his book and started on another, something else dark and ominous for yet another interview about the terrifying state of the world. Lovett alternated between throwing a ball for the dogs and playing some handheld video game, which seemed to violate the no electronics rule, but Jon had gotten a glare for pointing that out. Jon mostly watched them and the clouds and napped for indeterminate periods. 

All told, Jon feels floaty and loose when they make their way inside in the glow of a just-beginning-to-set sun. Lovett looks as relaxed as Jon feels, stretching his shoulders out dramatically as he kicks his flip flops off.

Tommy though, Tommy still looks tightly wound. He picked up his phone the second he walked into the kitchen and now he’s staring at it, brow wrinkled with concern. Hypocrite. 

“Tommy,” Jon complains. “It’s still fucking Sunday. You locked my phone in the office to keep me off Twitter, same rules apply.” 

“He’s right,” Lovett agrees, crossing the floor to climb up on the stool behind where Tommy is standing at the island. “Gimme,” Lovett insists, reaching up and over Tommy’s shoulder to make a grab for the phone. 

As he reaches, Lovett plants a hand on Tommy’s shoulder for balance and Tommy gasps in pain. 

Lovett looks down at Tommy’s back in concern. "Holy fucking shit Tommy. Did you want to burn your skin off? I gotta break it to you, sun poisoning isn’t a terribly quick way to go." Jon only has a quick moment to be grateful that Lovett skipped the skin cancer joke before Lovett is poking at Tommy’s back insistently and _that_ sound isn’t pain.  

Or, it’s the good kind of pain. The kind of pain that shakes Tommy out of his worrying head and drops him somewhere that’s soft and pliant and carefree. A place Jon and Lovett can take him. A place where Jon and Lovett can take care of him. 

Jon drops his eyes pointedly to Tommy’s swim trunks which are already tented a bit, just from that poking touch. “Oh,” Jon says, faking casual as he takes a step towards Tommy. “Is that how it is?”

Tommy’s face somehow turns redder under his sunburn, which now that Jon’s looking at it, has turned every exposed inch of skin violently red. “Yeah,” Tommy mumbles. 

“Yeah?” Lovett asks, hands hovering over Tommy’s shoulders. Tommy leans back into them, groaning when Lovett’s hands make contact. 

“Yeah, it’s good,” Tommy admits, louder. Lovett rewards him by digging his fingers in, like he’s giving Tommy a massage. Tommy’s head rolls on his shoulders. “Please,” he asks. 

“Of course, baby,” Lovett says sweetly, hands moving continuously. Tommy’s face contorts in pleasure and pain as Lovett’s hands roam. 

Jon watches the way Lovett’s thumbs dig into Tommy’s neck and shoulders with interest. They leave a slight trail of white prints behind that flush almost immediately back to crimson. 

Jon takes the last few steps to close the distance between them, making eye contact with Lovett over Tommy’s shoulder. “His back, I think,” Jon says. Lovett nods and moves his hands backwards. 

Jon scrapes his nails down Tommy’s chest, watching the pattern they make and the way Tommy squirms with delight. “There you are,” he murmurs as Tommy leans into his touch. “So pretty and red for us.” 

“Jon,” Tommy whines, face tilting forward. Lovett switches up his rhythm, hammering at Tommy’s back with the sides of his hands.Tommy groans obscenely at it. Jon twists at Tommy’s nipples, pleased when Tommy’s head falls further towards him, like the weight of it is too much to manage. 

“See,” Jon muses, lifting Tommy’s chin to look at his tomato red face. “If you’d been focused on enjoying the day,” thumbing Tommy’s chapped lips, “instead of worrying about the entire world,” Tommy’s tongue darts out to lick Jon’s thumb, “you wouldn’t have gotten burned.” Tommy groans, like he can’t form words anymore.

“Or maybe,” Jon continues, grinning. “Maybe this is what you wanted the whole time, hmm?” Tommy sucks at his thumb, harder, and Jon pulls it back. “No. Not yet.” Jon lifts his other hand to smack Tommy’s cheek in reprimand. Tommy’s eyes go wide and he hisses with pleasure. 

“Definitely what he wanted,” Lovett says smugly, hands scraping down Tommy’s back now. Jon smiles at him and slaps Tommy’s other cheek. 

“Fuck,” Tommy gasps, grinding slowly against Jon’s hips. His face has gone soft and open and Jon meets Lovett’s eyes with glee. 

Tommy’s jaw drops a little and Jon realizes why just in time. 

Jon steps back quickly, cutting off contact. “Not yet Tom,” he says sharp. Tommy whines piteously, leaning back into Lovett’s hands like that pressure will be enough to bring him off. Honestly, this worked up it might be enough, so Jon says, “Lovett,” terse, and Lovett drops his hands. 

Tommy's own hands make an aborted movement towards his dick. “Hey!” Jon snaps. He looks around quickly. 

Their discarded t-shirts from this morning are draped over one of the dining room chairs and Jon makes a quick grab for one, twisting it in his hands until he can make a sloppy knot around Tommy’s hands. It’s not his best work, but it’ll do for now. 

Tommy is still leaning backwards against Lovett’s legs, twitching fruitlessly. Jon tugs on the shirt in his hands, sharp, until Tommy stumbles forward, following the pull. 

Jon leans around Tommy to look at Lovett. Lovett jumps off the stool and leans up so Jon can whisper in his ear. “You should grab a bowl of ice and meet us upstairs.” Lovett’s eyes light up as he nods.

It takes extreme effort to wipe the smirk off his face as Jon steps back to tug at Tommy’s wrists again pulling him towards the stairs. 

“You’re going to stretch out my shirt,” Tommy complains, when they’re halfway up. He’s far too coherent. 

Jon smacks his shoulder, hard. “Let me worry about that,” Jon says as Tommy groans in response, yanking harder so Tommy trips a bit on the last step. Jon steadies him with rough hands, pleased when Tommy winces.

When they get into their bedroom, Jon lets go of Tommy’s hands to dig out a sturdier tie to make a proper knot. As always, Tommy reacts immediately to being tied up, body going tight with pleasure, the responsive twitch of his dick visible through his shorts. Jon leans in to kiss him, then slaps his face again. 

“Okay,” Jon says firmly, “Hands over your head.” Tommy obediently lifts his hands in the air and Jon pinches a nipple before turning Tommy’s body to face the bed and pushing him down so his face hits the mattress. 

“Oh, _yes_ ,” Lovett says as he walks in. There’s a clinking sound as he sets the bowl he brought on the dresser and then he steps up to stand by Jon and assess Tommy’s prone form.

Lovett looks to Jon, a question in his eyes and Jon nods quickly. Lovett steps up to the bed and yanks Tommy's swim trunks down in one smooth motion. Tommy yelps in surprise or pain or arousal. Likely all three, that can’t have been comfortable when he’s this hard. 

“You know,” Lovett observes pointedly, “there’s really only one part of him that isn’t all marked up.” 

Tommy’s moan, even muffled by the sheets, is obscene. 

Jon walks around to lean over the edge, of the bed, tugging at Tommy's shoulders and sides until he’s kneeling on bound hands and knees. Tommy’s whole body is shaking with need. 

“What do you think,” Jon asks smoothly, “should we turn your ass as red as the rest of you?”

Tommy moans again, loud and clear and desperate.

Jon squeezes his shoulder, uses his nails to make it sting. Tommy knows he needs to answer verbally. 

Tommy gasps, "yes, please." 

Jon looks up with a smirk, raising his eyebrows at Lovett at the foot of the bed. "You heard the man Lovett, please." 

Tommy yells “one,” through a sob when Lovett’s first hit lands. He’s gasping and choking on air by the time he chokes out “five.” 

Jon digs his fingers into Tommy’s shoulders again. “You don’t have to count dear, just take it, okay?” Tommy’s not going to keep this up and Jon doesn’t want him to fail… tonight. 

Tommy chokes out an “okay,” before going nonverbal, making incoherent sounds as Lovett spanks him, hard, and Jon goes in on his shoulders, pushing and pinching and smacking. 

After twenty, Tommy falls forward onto his hands, sobbing openly into the sheets. Lovett spanks him a few more times for effect, before his hands slow, rubbing and pinching at the now red skin. Jon tugs Tommy’s hair once, smacks his shoulder sharply, and then climbs off the bed to retrieve the ice, setting the bowl between them on the bed. 

Jon makes eye contact with Lovett while Lovett mouths, “One, two, three,” and they press the cold ice to Tommy’s flaming skin in unison. Tommy shrieks and practically jumps off the mattress at the sensation, but Jon sets a firm hand on the back of his neck to hold him down. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” Jon says softly as he runs the ice cube over Tommy’s shoulders and some of the tightness drains out of him. 

When his first ice cube melts, Jon pauses to lift Tommy’s shoulders. “Arms in front of you,” he orders, tugging Tommy’s hands out so that he won’t cut off circulation with the awkward way he collapsed on them. 

Tommy twists his face, eyes glazed over, and Jon leans in to kiss his cheek quickly, replacing his lips with a new ice cube and a quick slap from a somewhat awkward angle. Tommy grunts sharply, shoulders rolling. 

Jon twists to look at Lovett, running ice over Tommy’s ass and legs, staring with intent. “Go for it,” Jon tells him and Lovett grins, cocky, before pushing the ice cube inside Tommy’s hole. 

Tommy yelps, hips bucking forward and Jon grabs his sides, holding him roughly in place. “God Tommy,” Lovett says thickly. “Your ass is begging for it.” Tommy whines pathetically and Lovett’s face softens. “Okay you can have _one_ finger.”

“Pl- Please,” Tommy whines and Lovett just laughs, smacking his ass again.

Jon rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to the fiery expanse of skin in front of him, trading off ice and kisses with slaps and scratches. 

Too soon, the ice is mostly melted and Tommy’s hips are jerking fruitlessly against air. Lovett’s got one hand holding him steady but it’s not doing a whole lot with how much Tommy is shaking, sobbing and gasping for air.

“J- Jon, pl-please, L- Lovett, I- I need,” Tommy pleads, wrecked. 

Jon meets Lovett’s eyes with a nod. Lovett squeezes Tommy’s ass in both hands and Jon digs his fingers into Tommy's shoulders. “Yeah love, come for us,” Jon murmurs, as Tommy shakes apart.

Tommy’s coming before Jon finishes speaking. Lovett lets go of his ass and reaches beneath him to jerk him through it and Jon strokes Tommy’s shoulders soothingly. 

Tommy’s knees finally buckle and he collapses all the way onto the bed.

“There you are,” Jon murmurs soft and reassuring. Tommy’s head swings towards him wildly and Jon shifts so that Tommy can lay his head in Jon’s lap. “You did so well, you’re so good for us, so good.” Jon strokes Tommy’s hair rhythmically. 

“Aloe,” Lovett says quietly, jumping off the bed.

“Ibuprofen and water,” Jon adds as Lovett steps into the bathroom. Lovett nods quickly. “Hey Tom, hey,” Jon whispers. Tommy needs to be talked to, after, it doesn’t matter if it makes sense. “We’re going to make you feel better, love.” 

“Your sex talk is really sappy,” Lovett observes, throwing the pill bottle at Jon’s head. 

“Jesus,” Jon mutters as it goes wide, though he does manage to catch it before it falls and rolls under the bed. Tommy grumbles at the movement. “I think  _I’m_ just really sappy about you,” Jon offers. Lovett makes a face but Tommy hums contentedly under Jon’s hands.  

“Water,” Lovett says simply, holding out a glass.

“Can you sit up just a little Tom?” Jon asks, helping Tommy to a more or less upright position so he can swallow the pills in Jon’s hand.

“Water bottle, there,” Tommy says slowly and Jon twists to see that one of Tommy’s camelbaks is on the bedside table, straw at the ready for prone drinking. Jon passes it over and lays Tommy back down, face turned so he can suck in water.

“Here,” Jon holds out his hands for the aloe lotion. Lovett squirts a generous amount in his own hands before passing it over to Jon. Jon rubs it into Tommy’s shoulders carefully, watching Lovett gently massage Tommy’s calves and thighs before returning to his ass.

“You really,” Lovett chastises, affectionate. “Sunscreen, both of you. Jon, just because you don’t get this burnt doesn’t mean it’s not fucking up your skin, I see your nose peeling. Thomas, your vampire ancestors, they did you no favors with this fucking skin.”

“Thought I was descended from singing Austrians,” Tommy mumbles into the sheets.

“Nah, not ancient enough. _The Sound of Music_ was _based_ on you. Your ancestors though, were immortals, of the bloodsucking variety. Maybe you’re like, half related to the _Twilight_ cult.”

“They couldn’t have children,” Jon contributes. “It was a major plot point.” 

“I don’t know whether to be more upset that you’re familiar with _Twilight_ or that you think _I’m_ familiar with _Twilight_ ,” Lovett bitches.  

“You’re the one accusing our boyfriend of being a vampire. Are you telling me that’s a baseless accusation?” Jon teases. “I thought Jon Lovett only made arguments based on facts and knowledge.” 

“Hey!” Lovett’s indignant reply is cut off by the soft sound of Tommy’s snore. Lovett tilts his head. “Asleep?”

Jon bends down to check. “Totally out.” 

“I’m gonna go lock his phone up, and then I’ll meet _you_ in the shower?” Lovett says, eyebrows wagging ridiculously.  

“You bet,” Jon agrees. He contemplates asking Lovett to free his own phone and then decides it’s not worth it. He’d rather come cuddle with the two of them after. 

Jon really loves Sundays.

  
  
  



End file.
